


Dad's on a Hunting Trip...

by AllHallowsEve



Series: Wincest Colored Glasses [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, M/M, Pre-Slash, So many pent-up emotions, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 08:51:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14745717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHallowsEve/pseuds/AllHallowsEve
Summary: Pilot episode of Supernatural as seen through angsty Wincest colored glasses.





	Dad's on a Hunting Trip...

**Author's Note:**

> So I am already in Hellatus hell even though this is only the first Thursday that Supernatural won't be on after Season 13. My wife suggested I go back to the beginning to ease the pain. It made me want to write this. It is my head canon of how the reunion of the boys happened from an angsty emotional standpoint. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> As always this is unbeta'd so please let me know if you find any glaring errors that need to be fixed.

Dean moved quietly up the fire escape, having counted the windows until he found the one he was looking for.  He edged the window up, shaking his head at the fact that it wasn’t even locked.  His little brother knew better than that.  Anyone or anything could get in, just another item to bring up once they were in the car.

He made some subtle noises as a test, to see if Sam was as far off his game as he suspected after four years as a civilian.  The nerves he had been feeling, that caused him to take a window instead of the front door, were increasing until the butterflies in his stomach began having an all out brawl, as he moved deeper into the apartment.

He hadn’t seen his brother in what felt like a lifetime.  He had hoped that all the dark desire and inappropriate feelings he had harbored in secret, would have been long gone.  Having desperately tried to convince himself over the past few years apart, that the yearning in his heart was just him missing his brother.  He had lived so much of his life with Sam by his side, it was normal and rational that he found it hard to breathe without him there, right?

But as he took a shuddering breath in, the smells of the apartment filled his nose with Sam, Sam, his Sammy.  There were other scents lingering, of food and perfume, but inundating his senses from all sides were the undertones of Sam’s scent everywhere.  He became so sidetracked by his body’s response to repressed memories, evoked by those intense smells of home, desire, confusion and guilt associated with it all, that he hit something and knocked it over. 

“I need a drink.” Dean whispered to himself and made his way around the apartment in the dark, until a looming shadow came at him from behind.  They sparred until Dean took the larger man down to the ground, chuckling in pride as Sam turned the tables and swapped places with him, ending up holding Dean down, instead. 

Dean tried to act nonchalant and easygoing when the light came on, and the woman his brother shared his apartment with came into view for the first time.  He turned on the charm.  He hid his true self behind it, as a defense mechanism to mask the pain, stabbing through his heart, as thoughts of his brother choosing this woman to fill his life with instead of Dean, ravaged his already taut nerves.

The callous way Sam initially brushed off the fact that his dad was missing, was a knife stabbing directly into Dean’s gut.  All the pain and fear caused by Sam and John’s constant fighting before his brother left, came roaring back into Dean’s mind.  The responsibility to both “take care of Sammy,” as well as “mind his father,” fell like a ton of bricks right back down on Dean’s shoulders where it had stayed every time his family fought, pulling him apart from the inside out. 

He tried again, to cut through Sam’s bullshit response, to make him see the gravity of the situation.  Finally, Sam agreed to talk with Dean in private.  But even then, he tried to brush off Dean’s fears.  Dean couldn’t shake the cold frozen stone that had settled into his stomach, nesting like some huge arctic bird, waiting to hatch the horrible fate that had befallen his father.

He listened as Sam bemoaned for the umpteenth time about their upbringing and how unfair it was to be raised that way.  He kept saying dad was fine, but Dean couldn’t shake the fear he had felt for days now.  His dad was in trouble and he had to convince Sam to help find him.

The last straw, the one that really hurt, was when he confessed to Sam, “I can’t do this alone,” and Sam stubbornly said, “Yes you can.”

Dean patience broke.  He had been without his brother for so long, having him this close, and feeling that Sam wasn’t happy to see him, wasn’t eager at all to help him, just hurt so badly.  The fear of losing his Dad after basically losing Sam was too much. 

He confessed, “Yeah, well, I don’t want to.” 

And that was the rub.  He could have called on his dad’s connections in the hunting community.  He could have tracked his father alone. But these last few days since his Dad had come up missing had made him realize just how badly he missed his brother.  He needed him as instinctively as he needed oxygen.  He had gone without for so long.  Wanting to respect Sam’s need for “a normal life,” safe from all that they dealt with daily, hadn’t made it any easier.

The only thing that had kept him from driving to Stanford after Sam, four years ago, was John.  Having John by his side, day in and day out, quietly raging about Sam turning on the family was Dean’s shield.  It kept him strong enough not to abduct his kid brother from that normal life.  But without John’s influence ever present, making his overwhelming thoughts, feelings and need for his brother, tolerable to deal with from not having a choice in the matter, his instincts drove him immediately to seek Sam out, as amphibians inevitably have to seek out air, eventually, or die.

Relief flooded Dean’s body, making him weak with it, as soon as Sam sighed and asked, “What was he hunting?”

Once on the road and in the hunt, they fell back into an almost familiar rhythm, but Sam fought it every step of the way.  Not wanting to admit that he was good at hunting.  Not wanting to admit it was in his blood.

Dean hoped that being together, having the common purpose of finding their dad, would make Sam realize that he missed them as much as they both missed him.  But when they found themselves on the bridge where Constance Welch had thrown herself into the river, Sam balked at the hunt for John taking more time.  He once again repeated how he had to get back to Stanford by Monday.

It cut Dean to the quick and made him defensive.  Sam still wanted the other life.  Dean would never be enough for him.  Family and hunting would never be enough for Sam the way it was for Dean.  Pain and fear poured through Dean.  Just when he thought he had his brother back, Sam crushed his dream, just like before.

He got angry, and the rage simmered just under the surface.  Then Sam had to go and bring up Mom.  Sam stated angrily, that killing the demon that massacred her, wouldn’t bring her back.  He basically spit it in Dean’s face.  It was too much.  It made this all too real for Dean that family didn’t matter to Sam.  That Dean didn’t matter.  That even if they found Dad, it wouldn’t bring Sam back to him.

He lost it.  He pushed Sam up against the railing of the bridge, held him there, so close, breathing the same air.  It took everything Dean had to hold on to his anger and not give in to his desire to close the distance.  To take what he had always wanted and never allowed himself to believe he could have.  If Sam was gone for good from his life anyway, why shouldn’t he?  Why shouldn’t he close the distance and take a kiss the way he had always longed for.  So what if Sam hated him afterwards, at least he would have something to hold on to, once Sam was gone.  The way it was, he only had agony and longing.

He couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t risk it.  He turned it all around, made his wrath about his mother.  To make Sam believe that his words about her had been the source of his true anger.  It wasn’t a complete lie.  To Dean, his mom was a saint, a haloed angel to pray to when he was scared and alone.  But she wasn’t what kept him awake at night.  The reason Dean woke drenched in sweat and other things nearly every night from the time he hit puberty, until last night, were thoughts of his kid brother that no big brother should ever have.

He pushed it all down, the guilt and angst, and turned it into bitterness about his mom, and his missing dad.  He let go of Sam in a huff of anguish and walked away.

Who knows what he would have said or done, in the moments after, the mix of emotions churning him up inside, in a way he had sworn to himself he would leave behind, if he could only have Sam by his side again.  But there, standing only feet away on the bridge was what he could only assume to be the ghost of the woman who had thrown herself to her death there decades ago.

The ensuing chase and jump from the bridge cooled Dean’s emotions down and served as quite the distraction from the mixed up nest of feelings he had been flooded with back on the bridge.  As did finding John’s room, the subsequent arrest and escape from the law, and then the fight with the ghost over Sam. Those things were all extremely good distractions, but as is the nature of distractions, they were only temporary.

After Dean backed Baby out of the house where Sam had driven it to ‘take the ghost home’ he groused and complained the entire way out of town about the  broken headlight and beat up condition the car was now in.

He got quiet for a second and then turned to Sam.

“Why was she able to hurt you?” Dean asked in confusion.  “You haven’t been cheating on your girl have you?”

Sam furrowed his brow and then explained that he had confronted the ghost with his lack of infidelity right before she began digging into his chest.

Dean’s response was a typical “Huh.” and left it at that.

Sam on the other hand, chewed his lip and tried to center all his mental energy on tracking the coordinates their dad had left in his journal.  His mind wouldn’t focus though.  It kept swirling back to the guilt he had felt ever since he realized it was Dean he was fighting in his living room.  As soon as Dean’s face had become clear in the moonlight, streaming through the windows that night, he had known he was in trouble.  He had fought tooth and nail not to go with Dean on this hunt for their father in the first place.

Being this close to his brother, breathing in the scent of the car seats, and Dean’s leather jacket was too much.  It overwhelmed him and all the nefarious desire he had tried to leave behind, by drowning himself in tests and classes and Jess, had come flooding back as if the last four years never happened.

He had tried to convince himself that with his brother out of sight, the love and heat the mere whisper of the name Dean brought to his system, was in his past.  Ancient history.  He knew now that was just a lie.  The ghost had known.  He hadn’t cheated on Jess, but in his heart, he had been cheating on Dean all this time.  His one and only true love was sitting inches away and he had to do whatever it took to get away from him.  Ruin and heartbreak would be all there was between them if Dean ever found out about Sam’s unconscionable feelings for him.

Sam had to go back to Stanford.  He had to.  He had to throw himself into a ‘normal’ life because that was the only way he could keep his beloved brother from hating him.  He had no choice.

He finally brought his mind to stillness long enough to map out the coordinates which showed where his Dad had headed.  Sam watched the pain fly across Dean’s face as the expectations of a future of hunting for their Dad together evaporated into the night, as Sam explained yet again that he had to go back to Stanford. 

Dean did his best to swallow his disappointment.  He had had Sam back for two whole days, it was more than he had truly hoped for from this endeavor anyway.  The drive back happened mostly in silence.  He stopped Baby at Sam’s front door.  Both boys felt the empty chasm opening between them as Sam got out of the car and said goodbye.

The bitter disgust Dean felt for himself made the pain more bearable somehow as he drove away from the only person he had ever let in his heart.  He didn’t want to watch Sam as he walked out of his life again and back into the home he had built with someone else.

Dean circled back around.  He couldn’t leave, not yet.  The longing for his brother made him park across the street and watch what he would never have from a distance.  He wasn’t sure what he was looking for.  No new lights had come on in the apartment.  He just sat and hurt, watching what could be anyone’s place, but it was the most precious place on the planet, like Mecca it drew his eyes again and again.  His lashes became wet.  The pain was making it hard for him to breathe.  He rolled down the window, hoping somehow fresh air would help, knowing it wouldn’t, but having to try anyway.  A single tear ran down his cheek as he stared up in silence at where he knew Sam shared a bedroom with his girl. 

In the distance he heard someone cry out in horror “No!”

Dean would recognize that voice anywhere.

In a panic he busted down the front door and ran straight for the bedroom, his brother finally coming into view lying prone under a nightmare erupting above him.  Sam fought him as Dean manhandled him away from Jess burning on the ceiling. Memories flooded his mind, of the first time he carried Sam, wailing in his arms, running from their home, as their mother burned the same way.

In the aftermath Sam seemed numb. Dean was silent, unsure what to do or say to comfort him or make it better in any way.  Dean’s own heart was raw from seeing him that way.  Knowing Sam was mourning his love and the life he had hoped to make with her, tortured Dean.  He felt like the worst kind of human, glad she was out of the way. 

He would never wish this pain on Sam, but to know that he wouldn’t be with her any longer made him feel high.  Realizing that Sam’s words of “We have work to do,” had done nothing but fill Dean’s heart with joy, made Dean so ashamed.  The guilt he felt for not being able to focus only on Sam’s pain, but being flooded by his own selfish need to have his brother back with him, made Dean want to vomit.

He swallowed his conflicted emotions down, patted Sam on the arm and climbed behind the wheel of Baby. She roared into life as he drove them off into the night, unsure what the future held, but knowing finally, finally, Sam was back where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. I have some ideas for more episodes viewed through my Wincest colored glasses so let me know if there are any you would like for me to take a stab at. 
> 
> Thanks so much for taking the time to read this!!
> 
> *new note 6/10/18*  
> I have seen several people subscribe to individual stories in this series. I am thrilled by that and can't tell you how much I appreciate you wanting to not miss anything new I might post to them in the future!! While it is true, that I don't know where I am going with this yet, I don't know that I will be adding chapters to the individual stories. 
> 
> So if you like them and would like to receive updates on this series of stories, it is better if you click on the "series" and then subscribe. That way you will get updates about each one of the episode stories, and not just an update if I ever come back and do another chapter on any of the individual episodes. I hope this made sense, I just don't want you to miss out on what is coming next in the series if you are interested!!!


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